I imagined myself a death-sentinel drowsing there alone, far in the dragging watches of some wailing, gusty night, and having in a twinkling all my body stricken to quivering jelly by the sudden clamor of that awful summons! So I inquired about this thing; asked what resulted usually?
if the watchman died, and the restored corpse came and did what it could to make his last moments easy.

But I was rebuked for trying to feed an idle and frivolous curiosity in so solemn and so mournful a place; and went my way with a humbled crest.
Next morning I was telling the widow my adventure, when she exclaimed-- 'Come with me! I have a lodger who shall tell you all you want to know.
He has been a night-watchman there.' He was a living man, but he did not look it.

He was abed, and had his head propped high on pillows; his face was wasted and colorless, his deep-sunken eyes were shut; his hand, lying on his breast, was talon-like, it was so bony and long-fingered.

The widow began her introduction of me.

The man's eyes opened slowly, and glittered wickedly out from the twilight of their caverns; he frowned a black frown; he lifted his lean hand and waved us peremptorily away.